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“It’s not the wind. There’s something in there.” She wasn’t sure how she knew it was important, only that something in her guts told her so.
“All right, all right, I’m on it.”
Turning them about would likely have been difficult with a decent set of oars, and he had only a single subpar one. Hence, after a moment of indecision, he opted for a simple reverse stroke. The bag walloped him on the head. Bingo! Now they were quits.
“Bit more warning,” he grunted, levelling her with the evil eye. Well, not so much the evil eye as a bit of pouty sternness. Still, it confirmed there was something with some weight to it within the bag.
“Grab it,” she ordered. Now they were up close again. It was obvious something was wriggling around inside.
Still pulling a dubious expression, Paul reached for the bag. “Probably a squirrel, right?”
“Or a big fat hairy spider.”
“That I can live with, but if this is a giant rat…”
“What, like a huge Sumatran one straight out of Conan Doyle?”
She really did know her explorers.
“Will you squeal?”
“Only if it bites me on the nose. Which, if it does, I’m holding you personally responsible for. I am not going to be impressed if I have to play tomorrow night with a prosthetic nose glued over my real one to disguise the savaging.”
“Is it wrong that I kinda hope it does now?”
Lips pressed into a stern line, “Lady,” he chastised. Then he thrust the oar at her. “Take this and don’t lose it.”
Gingerly, he unhooked the carrier from the denuded branch and lowered it onto his knees. “There’s something wriggling.”
“Open it.”
As it was bound with garden string, that wasn’t going to be accomplished as quickly as she’d like. After plucking fruitlessly at the knots for a moment, he tore through the plastic.
“Fuckers! Evil fucking fuckers.”
“Wha—what is it?”
He tore a wider hole.
“Kittens!” she shrieked, equally outraged. “For real? What would…”
“Savages,” he enunciated with feeling. “Some people are real shits.” He lifted the first tiny bundle from the bag. There were three of them, only two showing obvious signs of life. Tiny mops of grey and brown, hardly bigger than his hand, which he checked over with surprising delicacy and care for such a large man. Content they were intact, he stowed the two wrigglers inside his fleece, zipping it up so they couldn’t climb out.
“Body heat, right?”
He nodded.
“What about?” They both peered at the remaining ball of fluff, willing it into motion. Saccharine sentiments about brief lives and journeys into the unknown stuck in her brain, but it was merely a top note to simmering anger. People were monsters. “Maybe it’s just cold. Turn your phone torch on again, so we can see properly.”
He did so, handing it over to her.
Rock Giant gently lifted the kitten. From what Jodi could observe, it seemed almost stiff, as if rigor had set in, but he shook his head at her when she wrinkled up her nose to try and stop herself from crying. “You might be right. There’s a flicker of a pulse, I think. I’m not sure.”
“Maybe if you—”
The boat jolted, jerking her forward towards his lap. Instinctively, her fist clenched, which sprung his phone from her grip like a bar of soap. “No!” It went straight into the water. “Shit!” She reached for it, but it was already too late. Even supposing she dived overboard, she’d never find it in the dark. Now she’d drowned both his bus and his phone.
“Kitten’s alive,” he said, as if he could see every thought currently assailing her. Jodi pushed herself up, relieved he wasn’t barking at her about the loss of his phone. He had the kitten held on its back and was rubbing its tummy. It’d opened its mouth, mewling weakly, just like the two squirming about inside his jacket. “They’re hungry.” He tucked the third kitten in with its siblings. “Focus, eh? Where’s this damned inn you were on about, and can you get us there? I don’t think I’m going to be much use paddling while multitasking as a kitten carrier.”
